Brine (18 page)

THE OCEAN SWALLOWED ME WHOLE. No biting, no chewing. I simply slid down her throat and became a part of her.

Imagine this: a puff of breath, an exhale so tension-free that it’s expelled with the soft force of a draft lifting a curtain. This is my new trained efficiency.

I dive and see hundreds of tiny iridescent fish moving as one unit, stretching and morphing like an amoeba. I dart through the center of their wobbly sphere, parting the cluster like a drapery for a brief pause before they close behind me.

Eyes open underwater, I spiral through the sea, driven by the power of my rippling lower half. At my side, birds plummet with dramatic splashes, hefty tunas thrust with lightning speed to gulp shiny flickers of fish. Trained by my mother, I too pluck these fish for nourishment as easily as if I am gathering ripe tomatoes from a garden.

I might worry that my mother is taking me on a swim across the Atlantic Ocean—to Bermuda, I’m supposing—but her skill and resourcefulness placate any apprehensions. I can now detect the subtle differences between the nectar of tuna, the oiliness of flying fish, and the chewy slip of squid.

I live in a world of cobalt blue, devoid of all green: the color of the crayon a child would select to draw the sea on a clean white piece of paper. I am a single totem in the center of a flowing stampede of porpoises. I drink fresh water squeezed from a cloud. I dream sweetly through the darkness of night on the softness of my ocean waterbed.

I am hidden, but I hope you will still look for me. I am out there.

Boundless gratitude for the friends who started this process with me and read my first unedited and sloppy drafts: Joan Algar, Dr. Bill Slayton, Melissa McConnell, Barbara Villasenor of First Reads, and Farrar Hood Cusomato. Without each of them, I probably would have given up when I realized what a significant undertaking this was going to be. My profound appreciation goes out to my editors, Renni Browne and Shannon Roberts of The Editorial Department. These two women pushed me to my limits and I remain in awe and humble appreciation for the remarkable transformation that occurred under their years of guidance. I want to also thank my sisters, Anna Smith and Ellen Mostellar, who were my final, finishing-touches editors. I feel our uniqueness combined with our bond of sisterhood made us an extraordinary editorial team. In particular, Ellie’s encouragement and patient advice were my treasures in the concluding stages of this journey. I know I wouldn’t have made it across the finish line without her. Shiva the Chocolate Labrador Retriever sat under my desk and was my loyal writing companion. Thanks to her adamancy for walks, I took much-needed breaks from the computer to swim in a creek or hike on a trail. I love and miss my companion every day. My old friend Charles Ailstock, with whom I attended kindergarten, gets an enormous shout-out for creating the woodcut portrait of Ishmael (illustration on the cover). He took my description of Ishmael and so flawlessly brought the words to life with his art. Elaine Morgan, whom I never had the privilege of meeting in this lifetime, wrote the books on anthropology, evolution, and feminism that I devoured in the beginning stages of this manuscript. Her bold spunk to question established conventions and her passionate grit to announce her heartfelt truth will eternally inspire me.

I give the biggest thank you of all to my husband, Legare, who selflessly bolstered my every stroke along this writing odyssey. He is the reason this book came to fruition. So many times when I was drowning in a sea of self-doubt, he captained me. Legare, with all my heart, I thank you.

And to Ishmael, wherever you are, thanks for whispering your story in my ear.

Kate Smith was born and raised in Charleston, South Carolina and has spent a significant portion of her adult life living on the West Coast. She now resides in the Deep South on the shores of the Atlantic Ocean with her boat captain husband and their two water-loving, brown dogs. She owns a yoga studio named after Mother Earth.